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A thunderous cacophony could be heard from the frenzied heavens on such an abysmal night where lighting streaked across the tumultuous sky in a jagged fashion. It was upon a mountaintop that a shadowy figure ascended towards the rocky outcropping that overlooked the valley below. Was this some sort of legendary warrior? As the enigmatic figure drew closer to the edge of the cliff and stepped out from the shadows, it was evident that this wasn’t some infamous slayer of men. This person was dressed in a red colored yukata and a black obi sash tied around his sizable waistline. A sword was tucked into the sash, ready for battle, but it had an almost new quality to it like it’d never once seen use. The first thing you’d notice about this peculiar man was that he was awfully short, short and fat. He was breathing heavily as he finished the climb and placed a hand against the mountain to steady his weary body or run the risk of collapsing the exhaustion.


Oshiro Daichi had gotten lost on his way through the mountainous pass. He’d figured the best way to see where he needed to go was to get to a high elevation and than survey the area around him and then determine the proper path to take. From his vantage point Daichi could clearly see that he was nowhere close to where he needed to be and upon realizing such took to complaining incessantly about his situation. The only thing that managed to snap him out of his whining was the feeling of cold rain beginning to come down. Judging from clouds, it’s seem as though much more rain was on the way and that it would be best to get off the mountain as soon as possible. This path was already treacherous enough without adding water into the mix.


“Hmmmm, how best to get down this path the fastest?”


Daichi pondered his situation for a few minutes, absently scratching at the top of his head as he did so, and eventually came up with a solution. He knew he had to play to his strengths, regardless of how few and far between those were, and use them to see him through this tense situation. He tossed his sword down the mountain where he saw a path far below and watched it hit where he needed it to be, albeit with a lot of force. If it was damaged, he’d have it repaired, but he couldn’t have it on his person for what he was planning on doing now. Daichi let his stomach out and his waistline grew by a couple of inches, this was necessary for his plan, as it called for as much cushion as possible.


Daichi would lay down on the path, on his side, and began rolling down the path at a high rate of speed. For anyone else this would have been near suicidal, but for Daichi it was different. Even during his childhood, he’d always had amazing luck and that luck enabled him to survive things that would kill other men. Sure he always got hurt in the process, but none of the numerous injuries were anywhere near fatal. His plan worked like a charm and he flew down the path in a blur of red fabric, black hair, and….fat. He didn’t have to worry about stopping as a large rock took care of that and it only cost him a slight concussion. So obviously it was a pretty good deal. Daichi remembered the path he’d seen from atop and used the memories to guide him to where his weapon was and the correct route out of the mountain pass.

[ cont. ]

Daichi yawned as time dragged on and on, some people came and went. Others seemed like they were going to be staying for an extended period of time, but Daichi was not among them. Having finished more than a few drinks without anything interesting happening, he simply informed the barkeep that he'd like to pay off his tab and hit the road. The overweight wannabe swordsman collected his thoughts and simply got out of his seat and staggered off towards the door on shaky legs. He had somewhere he had to be in a couple of days and he couldn't afford to linger here any longer.

I've been listening to Gangsta's Paradise by Coolio a lot. I don't even know why.

Even though Diachi had completed all the assigned tasks and had even done one somewhat correctly, he was informed that he shouldn't expect to be taken on by Oda and that he should just go ahead and return to the mercenary camp. Diachi was a bit down on his luck at this point as he'd tried to do his best on this day, but unfortunately his best always had a way of turning out badly for himself and anyone else who had the misfortune of being around him at the time.

The disheartened mercenary wandered off and took a seat upon a low wall to contemplate if he'd made the right choice coming out here and trying out. He wished his parents were still alive and that he was once again back home, enjoying a life of peace and tranquility.

So the shooting had been a failure, and the horse riding even worse, but this was his time to shine. At the very least, hand to hand combat didn’t offer him much of a chance to seriously injure anyone else and for that he was grateful. Daichi had been scolded yet again for the damage he’d caused as was dragged towards the next part of his recruitment where he’d have to take part in a fighting tournament. This tournament outlawed the usage of all weapons so Daichi casually removed his sword from his sash and placed it upon the ground and than prepared to get in the ring. The commanders at this camp were seemingly trying to get back at Daichi for what he’d done in the past and had seen fit to pit him against one of the most imposing men that’d turned out for the days activities.

This soldier was a mercenary and veteran of a few battles. He was a towering man who stood well over a foot and a half over Daichi and had an extremely muscular physique that was accented by countless scars. The men and women who watched on snickered to themselves as they watched the men square off. Everyone thought that this was going to be a short and extremely entertaining bout, and they were right. Daichi had been psyching himself up for the match before he’d stepped into the ring, so when it came time to get down to business, his veins were filled with piss and vinegar. Diachi rushed the man and attempted to punch him in the gut. He did, but the man’s powerful abdominal muscles absorbed the punch and it felt like he’d just hit a rock.

“Ow, ow, owwww. “

A fit of laughing was heard by this brute and he picked up Diachi by waist and tossed him several feet away. In mid-air a ball of rice fell out from some unseen place and landed upon the ground. Daichi’s opponent had been too involved with laughing at him to notice it and in the process of walking over to Daichi to potentially hurl him out of the ring, he slipped on it. The giant slipped backwards, fell to his back, and his head slammed hard against the floor of the ring with a sickening thud. Blood seeped out from the back of the man’s head where it’d hit and his eyes rolled back. It took Daichi a few minutes to regain his composure and when he looked over at his opponent he realize that the man was likely dead, or at the very least out of commission. He took this time to sluggishly saunter over to the man and place his foot upon the man’s chest and raise his hands in a triumphant manner. Everyone simply placed their faces in their palms and shook their heads in frustration.

“God, I’m hungry………” That’s all Daichi thought about as Oda Nobunaga barked out his orders to the company of men that had assembled outside of some barracks. He probably should have been listening to the man and what he was saying, but the growling of Daichi’s stomach took precedence at the moment. Daichi had arrived in the morning to join the Oda, a group who was in the process of preparing for war. With a lot on the line, you’d think Daichi would be taking the situation more seriously. He wasn’t and in all honestly he’d decided to join Oda simply to increase his odds of scoring some good looking women. Daichi was dressed in his usual attire and had his sword tucked loosely into the sash around his waist.

The group began to disperse and Daichi, having not been listening, just looked to see what others were doing. Men and women were grabbing rifles from a large stack of them and lining up in a row. Daichi did the same. As it turned out this was the first part of his training/examination. The goal was to shoot a helmet that Nobunaga would throw into the air and hit that helmet in such a precise manner that it would be knocked backwards onto a spear that’d been planted into the ground. Well, at least that was what Nobunaga had intended.

When Daichi had his turn to fire he brought the weapon up in a shaky aim and tried in vain to line up his shot correctly. The helmet was thrown and his pudgy finger squeezed the trigger and fired the bullet. I guess Daichi should have been thankful he even hit the target, but then again his shot did have some unintended consequences. The bullet ricocheted off the side of the helmet, whizzed just inches over Nobunaga’s head and eventually struck a man in the foot that’d just been nonchalantly waiting to see everyone complete the task. The man let out a bloodcurdling scream as the hot lead put a hole in his left foot and Daichi promptly threw the rifle where it struck someone in the face and caused them to discharge their weapon into the air.

“Ummm, ummmm, the sun blinded me.”